


Cirque du Rivaille

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen- the circus is in town! Enjoy the performance, stay in your seat, and remember- NO BRATS ALLOWED." The mysterious Cirque du Rivaille has come to town, and Eren Jaeger is first in line to see the cursed show. AU. Ereri, ErenxLevi. Yaoi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written an AU or tried my hand at it, so I'm hoping it'll turn out decently. I had a surge of inspiration.

"Hurry up, Mikasa!" I yelled up the stairs. "We're gonna be late for the circus!"

"We're not going to be late!" she yelled back at me.

"The bus is leaving!" I pressed my face to the window and squinted at the bus stop right across from our house. It was a lie; the bus hadn't even gotten that far yet, but if I let Mikasa know, she'd disappear into the bathroom for ages.

"Christ, Eren, give me two minutes!" I groaned impatiently, watching the lights far off in the distance, dancing on the creamsicle-orange tent invitingly. I couldn't wait until I got my own car.

Cirque du Rivaille only came to town once a year, on November second, two days after Halloween had plagued Trost with bratty kids running around in their mothers' old sheets and shit-faced teenagers doing premature graffiti jobs on the sides of buildings and houses all over town. The year I turned sixteen, I counted down the days until the striped tent would pitch in the empty lot just outside the town gates. The circus rules were painted on an old, chipped sign staked in the soil just outside, proclaiming, "NO BRATS- Must be 16 YEARS OF AGE to enter!"

Every year, the circus appeared overnight, the tent and all the trailers toting the cargo seated comfortably on Trost Hill. No one had ever seen it roll into town or witnessed workers putting up the signs or setting each peg and sheet into place- but it was always, always impeccably there on the dawn of November second.

The real reason everyone wanted to go to Cirque du Rivaille, however, wasn't the allure of the lights and colors or the dreary, off-tune music rattling past the shitty stereos. Not even the complimentary booze or big-boobed trapeze artists were the reason that so many kids hiked up Trost Hill long after school let out to get a ticket. Rumor had it that the circus was cursed, and it never left town without a victim.

"That's not true," protested my best friend Armin, crossing his arms beside me, but as soon as he'd said so, he looked around, furrowed his brow and added, rather weakly, "Right?" His large blue eyes were filled with obvious fear, and his fingers clenched and unclenched nervously in the fabric of his periwinkle jacket.

Don't get me wrong, I love Armin, but he can be a huge coward.

"Of course it's true," said Jean Kirschtein, leaning in towards us, grabbing his knees and staring right into our faces. "Don't you remember Marco? I was there when they got him."

Marco Bodt had been Jean's best friend, rumored lover. No one was really sure, but we damn well knew that he had died last year on November second. He was super messed up after the accident, but after a while he declared that he was going to make it up to Marco by facing the circus again this year- whatever that meant. Jean wasn't exactly validly sane.

"Eren, don't listen to those stories," Mikasa said, pulling her scarf up around her mouth.

"They're true!" Jean insisted as the bus rolled up alongside us. We climbed on with the rest of the teenaged crowd of Trost, eager to be entertained and all secretly hoarding a sick desire to see something that held a light to the stories. Most adults went out of their way to keep their kids away from Cirque du Rivaille on account of all the creepy rumors surrounding it, but because Armin lived with his lenient old grandfather and Mikasa and I lived alone, we had an easy time of getting out. I watched the tent from my seat as it grew closer and closer, anxious. The lights came into view and the gate opened agonizingly slowly. I don't think I've ever been more excited for anything in my life.

Behind me, Jean poked my shoulder and pointed. "See those big cages? That's what they put Marco in before he was taken away." I peered up at them, blinking my eyes largely. The cages had to be at least four meters high, covered with dark sheets that were chained to the iron bars. There were three, huddled together at the back of the tent, and they struck a queasy feeling into my stomach that I wasn't quite familiar with.

Whatever that feeling was, Armin had felt it before, because he was suddenly ready to turn the bus around and ride straight home to his grandpa.

"We have to get out of here," he hissed at me. But I wasn't listening to him. I watched, intrigued, as a dark figure stalked out of the tent and stood on Trost Hill, staring down at us from afar, black and powerful against the oranges and purples, reds and yellows of the setting sun.

"Eren…..Eren." It dawned on me that Mikasa was talking, and I looked back at her. "What?"

"It's not too late to go back if you're scared," she said pointedly. I looked out the window again while Armin rambled and gibbered about Mikasa's premonitions and it being a good idea to turn back. The figure had disappeared from its place, and the lapels of the tent were drawn back, the inside beckoning with a warm yellow light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter for now.

Security was tighter than I anticipated. A tall, blonde man with broad shoulders and thick eyebrows waved a handheld metal detector over each of us and confiscated cameras or video recorders.  
“B-but, that’s my grandfather’s,” Armin began to protest when his camera was taken.  
“You’ll have it back after the show,” said the burly man, and his glare shut Armin’s trembling mouth.  
The inside of the circus tent appeared almost bigger than the outside. Tall, sturdy poles hung the heavy tarp all around us. The stands comprised half the arena in a semi-circle; the opposite side wore only a small opening for performers to enter. The tassels and streamers hanging from the ceiling seemed worn beyond repair, pieces of tissue wilting down when the occasional breeze swept through the door. Far above us, the tightrope bounced in the updrafts, tired and impeccably loose, like the strings of a guitar that had seen far too many sets. There was no safety net and only two unreliable platforms, and I could practically feel Armin shivering beside me as I took my cold, fold-out metal seat. The air smelled faintly of fresh tobacco and fireworks, the sort of smell you’d expect at a July picnic.  
While we trekked down the staggered steps searching for our seats, we passed tall posters on the walls of various performers, all strange in their own way. A woman snapped a whip in one, but her beasts were invisible; in another a small girl crossed a tightrope, teetering on her tiptoes. Some of the posters were too faded to read properly, and many were ripped or torn. The whole place seemed like it was lost in time, a forgotten piece of someone else’s universe.  
“Eren,” Armin muttered next to me. “The more I look at this place, the more I’m sure it’s going to fall in on top of us.”  
“Don’t be a pussy, Armin,” I muttered, mostly to appease the part of me that wanted to be brave.  
“This is a bad idea,” he insisted. I guess I should have listened to the Honors Student over the jocks that hooted and hollered over the idea of a forbidden midnight circus, but at the moment, I really didn’t care.  
I hadn’t seen Mikasa since our tickets were torn at the door and guessed she was sitting with her own friends. Jean was on the other side of Armin, giving the sawdust floor a cold glare. Remembering what he said about Marco, my stomach turned, both anxious and excited. A murmur ran through the crowd all around us, silent trepidation coloring the air. I clenched and unclenched my hands and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. We couldn’t seem to join the clamor around us, and all at once, the lights went out with an echoing shutter. A few girls screamed, then giggled when they realized they weren’t in danger- at least, not yet. I heard Armin jump beside me, the rusted joints of his chair protesting his weight. A smooth, sultry voice faded in on a raspy microphone that played static at the end of every word it said.  
“Welcome,” it drawled, with little enthusiasm, so that it nearly sounded sarcastic. “Welcome to the Cirque du Rivaille.” The lights shuddered back on, flickering zealously, revealing a hastily-assembled platform center-ring, upon which was standing a man dressed entirely in black. A top hat set upon his head, and he tipped it so the brim fell just above his drooping, bored-looking eyes. A short, sparkling onyx cape swished around his shoulders, a nod to glamour, as he paced the platform. His pointed, shined stilettoes clicked, stentorian in the otherwise silent tent. There was no applause. The man smirked, and the microphone picked up some kind of rasped, sickly chuckle from the back of his throat.  
“Don’t shit yourselves, kids,” he said. “We’ve not even started.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer. I'd like to add that I have kept some of the elements of certain powers the same but have changed them to compliment the story. I guess that's why they call it fanfiction? *hides*
> 
> Thank you for the support. *heart*
> 
> *p.s. I'm going to start posting chapters on tumblr too, so if you're interested or it meets your convenience, you can follow me: http://www.naviwasabi.tumblr.com *

Everything was silent after the strange man spoke. I expected music or clapping or something- hell, anything; practically the whole high school was crammed up into the stands. Instead, there was absolutely nothing, and an airy chuckle crackled crisply through the sensitive microphone.

“Well, I won’t shit around with you any longer. Please, enjoy the show.” The lights went out and then on again, and he was gone, along with his platform. The same uneasy music we had heard coming in began to play again. It was some sort of crazy old tune that possessed Jack-in-the-Boxes play in old horror movies, and a few people tried to chuckle lightly, playing it off as novelty. More of us were holding onto our seats for dear life, not knowing what to expect. I leaned forward a bit to look at Jean. He was staring forward intensely, eyes locked on something, and I followed his gaze. I didn’t see anything there.

“Eren, look,” Armin said next to me, elbowing me in the side none too gently. He pointed up above us, where the two trapeze platforms had become occupied by two figures. One was clearly a woman, wearing glasses and a brown leather jacket with a pair of outstretched wings on the back, which I vaguely remembered seeing hung on the front of the tent. The other, in similar dress, was a tall man with an impressive build, looking more like a wrestler than a trapeze artist. They were both saddled with heavy metal gear that hung by their sides, and I began to wonder how they were going to maintain balance on those tired-out ropes with all that weight on them. 

“What are they doing?” I wondered aloud, but the music made a startling crescendo and drowned me out. All at once, the two figures charged forward and leapt off the platform. Screams echoed all around us as we watched, horror-stricken. They plunged feet at a time, free-falling, and I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, willing myself not to hear the sickly sound of crunching bone on the ground. However, the screams of terror quickly turned to cheers, and I opened my eyes again to find the artists swinging in mid-air, ziplining on the bouncing trapeze strings and doing incredible gymnastics still far above our heads. The woman performed amazing aerials, her whole body twisting with the effort of the tricks, and for a moment she didn’t appear human, but almost birdlike in the air, graceful and elegant and beautiful in a way that shattered my initial perception of beauty. The man, though not possessing her girlish figure, tucked his knees to his chest and did double layouts and full twists in the air, incisive as an eagle cutting the air with the entirety of its body.

I was hit with a sudden urge to be up there with them, flying. If I could fly, I would have left Trost long ago, maybe taken Mikasa and Armin with me and landed somewhere better- or, better yet, I could have never landed at all. We would spend our whole lives in the air. Armin could finally see the oceans that were so far away from us, and we would spend eternity travelling anywhere but here. The notion of all the stress of school and teachers and just life itself lifting from my shoulders made me grin, and I watched the acrobats eagerly. They seemed so free.

“They’re good,” Armin said next to me, ogling the performance with large, impressed eyes.

“Yeah,” I agreed lamely, breathlessly. I tried to figure out the gear that flew and rotated with their bodies. There was a little chamber at the smalls of their backs that released the gas necessary for them to propel themselves through the air, but I wasn’t smart like Armin and really couldn’t comprehend how the rope things were shooting and retracting from their flying bodies or how they grappled onto any surface. It just looked fucking awesome and I was okay with that.

Below them on the ground floor, more performers were emerging, doing stunts of their own- one was breathing fire, cyclones of flame whose tendrils tickled the bottom of the acrobat’s feet. There were people with strangely-painted faces resembling their muscly interiors and jugglers tossing things into the air like knives and balls of fire; tall men and women teetered on stilts and the acts came and went in a fast-paced rhythm. Somewhere between the big-breasted dancers and the jelly-boned contortionists, there was a girl that entered the room alone below the still-performing acrobats. She was ordinary enough until her body began to quiver with a strange energy. A glowing light enveloped her and she swirled in it, dancing- it was a long dance, but a pretty one- and, all at once, there was a burst of smoke and she was enveloped in bright white crystal, her body sealed safely inside. The audience freaked out and urged her to dance on in deafening screams, pumped up with energy. The light began to glow within the crystal again, among loud cheers, and with another burst of smoke, the crystal shattered, and Armin muttered next to me something about smoke and mirrors and lights. No matter what kind of trick it was, her metaphor to metamorphosis was breathtaking, and the audience ate it up as she danced out of the ring and the next act erupted.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of smooth, flashy moves and bated breath, the two acrobats landed right-side up on their platforms again, and the audience erupted in hoots and hollers and screams. With a large grin, the woman bowed to us, and the man simply nodded. They changed out their gas things (Armin later informed me that they were called gas chambers) and each drew two long, steel blades from the metal sheaths at their sides.  
“Wow,” I said, watching the light glint off the shiny metal. I didn’t know whether or not I could call the weapons swords or not; they were nearly completely straight and fashioned on an angle, their sharp corners looking deadly even this far away as they sparkled in the dim.

The voice came back again, this time unaccompanied by a body. “Let’s hear some applause for our wonderful opening acts,” it said silkily. Armin balked.  
“Opening acts?” He said, looking at his watch. “I thought it’d be over by now!” Nevertheless, there were cheers all around, and I think I clapped and hollered the loudest of all. The air smelled of sweat and labor and excitement, and I could feel myself trembling with excitement at the next words to flow through the speakers. “It’s time for the main event.”  
A spotlight appeared on both platforms and the lights went out. Sometime during the last thirty seconds, the male acrobat had been replaced by the ringleader himself, who wore his sparkly black cape emblazoned with the circus’ wings as he poised himself above the ring. A third spotlight powered on afterwards, slowly lighting up the face of a young man beneath us. Something about his close-cut black hair was familiar, even though he was so far away, and I struggled to remember where I had seen those freckles before. He was trembling in the light, looking frightened in front of so many people. He swallowed deeply, nervously, and slowly brought his thumb to his mouth.

“What’s he doing?” I muttered softly, but Armin shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “But doesn’t he look familiar?”  
The freckled boy put the skin of his thumb in his mouth. It was only then that I noticed Jean, shaking visibly on the other side of Armin. His eyes were dead and wide, his whole face and neck soaked in sweat. He stiffened and lurched forward, gripping the back of the chair in front of him with white knuckles.   
“Ladies and gentlemen, shitty brats, we present to you The Beast Slayers.”  
Jean’s scream echoed in the arena, bloodcurdling and lost among the bursts of smoke and thunderous applause.

“MARCO!”

Suddenly, everything clicked, and my mouth fell open in realization-  
but then, Marco was gone, and in his place stood a gargantuan, ugly beast swarmed with tendrils of white steam. Its large eyes fixated themselves upon Jean, and in them was an unadulterated lust for blood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a longer chapter... :O Thank you for all the positive reviews. It means a lot just to see that someone enjoys the words I try to organize into coherent thoughts. ;w;

I’m still not entirely sure what happened next. I felt like I was underwater- like everything around me, all the screams and cheers and confusion, had melted together, and it surged and rushed past me, becoming nothing but white noise. Voices passed me with some clarity as I picked them out, screaming- Jean was screaming, Armin was screaming! Eren was screaming- that’s me, I’m Eren- the world rushed past my glassy eyes. Time began to slow.

The Beast Slayers were flying after the monster, the monster that got Marco, the monster that was Marco. Their blades glinted harshly in the light, so bright that they were blinding. Marco was roaring, growing closer, and in less than three strides he was right before us, boring into us with sharp, animalistic eyes, raising a massive fist. The world resumed its normal speed, motion, and clarity, and Armin grabbed my hand and jerked me to his side. “Eren, come on!” His eyes were wide and they trembled with fear. I suddenly regained feeling in my feet, cold and clammy within my shoes, and we began running up the stairs two at a time, knocking over cheap rusted chairs and discarded beer bottles as we went. Everyone was running, trying to cram themselves through the minute opening and out of the tent. There were no security guards to be seen. Couples were separated and screamed for each other, someone was on the ground, trampled by the crowd and searching for something- Mikasa! Where was Mikasa? I searched for her and found nothing.

For all the smart and tactful people in the world (Armin, for example), there’s an equal amount of dumbass friends. Something in the back of my dumbass mind, by nature, something totally fucking stupid, told me to look back, and when I did, I stopped, shut down mid-step.

The Beast Slayers had struck. Blood rained down upon Jean, who still stood, motionless, mouth frozen in a silent scream of Marco’s name. The beast did not falter, bringing its fist down hard, and before I knew it I was screaming again, practically falling down the rickety stairs after Jean. All at once, his dickish comments and haughty attitude meant nothing, and all he was was Jean, a target, a human being, even- God help me- a friend about to die.

“Eren!” Armin’s voice tea-kettled behind me, but it was too late- the monstrous fist smashed down on top of Jean and the whole platform burst to planks and splinters below us.  
I fell. I fell for a long time, and I didn’t notice that I hadn’t let go of Armin’s hand until black ate away my vision and ensnared my senses. I heard a distant roar, and I dropped off.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Fuck, didn’t you hear me, shitty brat? I said wake up.” 

The sharp toe of a pointed shoe hit my stomach like a ton of bricks and I tumbled onto my back. I felt a heated glow form on the afflicted area as blood pooled beneath my skin. This voice was familiar. My eyes shuddered open and twitched against the bright lights above me, but I couldn’t see; not clearly. My body was dead weight. My stomach began to throb. My ribs felt tight against my lungs, and I wheezed every breath with difficulty. The hot, salty copper taste of blood assaulted my swelled mouth, and I worried for my aching limbs, which I imagined as cracked and twisted.

“Tch… take him to the med trailer, Hanji.” I struggled to bring my vision into focus, but all I saw was a clicking pair of black stilettos before passing out again.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke again to the ring of silence. My eyes adjusted rather quickly in the dim, but they ached as if they’d been gouged out, white-hot in my skull. My body still felt heavy and dead, but my limbs moved, I discovered, though with a grainy tickling sensation that pulsed like electricity up and down my entire body. There was something like a hospital gown covering me, and my clothes were nowhere to be seen. It was getting cold. I was wrapped in bloody bandages, but I peeled them back to find my skin flawless, entirely devoid of all scabs, cuts or even bruises. I wondered, vaguely, if I was dead.

“Eren!” I heard Jean’s voice, and instantly I struggled to sit up, but my body went limp and I fell, noodle-like, back against the mound of pillows beneath me. “Jean!” I croaked. My voice sounded rough and choked, like my throat was full of sand. “Are you alright!?” I tried to turn my head to look at him, but there were curtains drawn up on the sides of the cot I was currently laying in, and all I could see through the dark room was a faint silhouette, provided by pale blue light spilling in from places unknown.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I heard through the curtain. There was something different in his voice, something that wasn’t there before. I couldn’t really place it, but it made the edges of his voice quiver in anxiety. “Where the hell are we, Jaeger?” I didn’t quite know myself.

The room around me stank of sanitation, of bleach and latex and Listerine. I remembered a voice as I looked around me, studying the whitewashed walls and the withered outline of a counter littered with medical instruments. A rusty sink dripped lugubriously.

“The med trailer,” I remembered. “Before I passed out and woke up here, someone said something about a med trailer…”

Jean was quiet for a moment and then asked, more quietly, ‘Who’s that beside you?”

I hadn’t even noticed until he asked that there was another dusty shadow, visible through the cloth barrier on my left.

“No clue,” I said honestly, and the figure did not stir. 

Jean was quiet again, for a long time. We were both imprisoned within our thoughts. Where was Armin? Better yet, where was Mikasa? Why was I stuck in a room with Jean, of all people? Still, his presence comforted me somewhat, and it forced down the bile that came with my fear. I wondered what Jean was thinking about and decided the answer was obvious. My heart ached for him as I considered how it must feel to finally see his best friend, maybe even his boyfriend, after so long. I imagined them at the circus together last year, laughing and sweating nervously in the big, spacious tent, maybe even sharing a few tender kisses to reassure each other that yes, they were alright. I thought of the accident that no one spoke of, the one that left Marco presumed dead. I thought of Marco’s laugh and the red that rimmed Jean’s eyes long after last year’s circus, and, ultimately, I thought of what that meant for us, for our friends and family at home. I wondered if Mikasa had made it home and was waiting by the phone for a call. I wondered if Armin’s grandpa was waking up and wondering where Armin was and where his camera had gone. I wondered into my sleep.

I woke to the sound of Jean screaming.

“Marco! MARCO!” He was tumbling out of bed but tripped over his sheets, falling to the floor with a loud thud. I sat straight up in bed. Jean was blindly grabbing for all he could, and he gripped the sliding curtain and ripped it down in his haste. The metal rings screeched on the rod as they slid and the sound hurt my ears and made me clench my teeth. “Jean!” I yelled, reaching for him. I crawled to the edge of the cot on my hands and knees. “Jean!”

He was gone. His eyes didn’t see me, couldn’t comprehend my presence. They streamed cold, salty tears, and his whole body trembled and shook. “Marco,” he whimpered quietly, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight. His shoulders quivered and I heard him choke out a sob. I frowned, reaching down further. “Jean…”  
“MARCO!” he was at it again, screaming. The door was open then, and in flew a familiar face, one of the Beast Slayers- the woman with the tinted glasses. She wore a lab coat now, and from it drew a pre-prepared syringe full of clear liquid.

“No, no, it’s alright!” she said to him quite cheerfully, flicking the syringe to rid it of excess liquid. “You won’t feel a thing!”

She didn’t have to worry. All he felt now was pain.

After she stuck him, Jean crumpled almost immediately, and the Slayer scooped him up in an impressive show of strength. She helped him into bed and replaced his covers, much like a mother would. I caught myself staring, and she did too.

“Hello,” she said happily. “Would you like one too?”

I felt my cheeks redden and quickly shook my head. She laughed brightly, sticking her latex-clad hand in my face.

“I was only joking,” she assured me, and starry eyes watched me from behind her glasses. “Welcome to the family! My name is Dr. Hanji, so you can call me that, or just Hanji or really whatever you’d like.”

She had a dazzling grin, such a difference from the serene figure I’d watched twirling high above the circus.

“Um,” I responded dumbly, taking her hand slowly and giving it a shake. Her grip was firm and warm, and I tried pulling my hand back. Her fingers tightened and she flipped over my arm, humming as she hoisted the stethoscope around her neck to her ears, pressing cold metal to my inner arm. “…I’m Eren,” I added. “Not to ah, pry, I guess, but where exactly are we…?”

“About eight hundred miles south of Trost,” said the doctor cheerily. I felt my eyes blow up wide in my skull.

“Eight hundred miles?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes, sir,” Hanji answered. She let the stethoscope fall around her neck again. She seemed oblivious to my shock and smiled at me sunnily, making a few marks on a clipboard at the foot of the cot, probably recording my vitals. Before I could open my mouth to speak, to ask where we were going and why, Hanji continued on her way, pointing to my clothes, newly cleaned and folded beside my cot. “The ringleader wants to see you after dinner, so you should hurry and get a bite to eat before it’s all gone!”

I was grateful to have my clothes back and all, but my face was twisted in confusion, and I bit my lip, calling out to her. “Dr. Hanji, I-”

“Don’t worry about your friend! He’ll be fine. His clothes are on the other side of his cot, but he should sleep through the night!”

“But Dr. Hanji…”

“See you on the flipside, Eren!” She waved at me as she headed out, closing the door behind her, and I was left in the room alone, aside from Jean.

The bed on my left was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And still no Levi! I'm sorry. He'll be in the next chapter. I thought this was a good place to stop.  
> Thank you again for all your support :) Let me know if you find any grammatical issues, because I'm a horrible proofreader...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an update! Updates will be scarce in November because of NaNo.
> 
> But I might be writing asides, so if you're interested, feel free to follow me on tumblr at http://naviwasabi.tumblr.com 
> 
> Also, if you're doing NaNo too, feel free to add me at http://nanowrimo.org/participants/lostonelawliet
> 
> Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! I know Levi is kind of... too angry? :O

I stuck out like a sore thumb among the circus performers. I emerged in my pale blue hoodie and jeans, noting the blood stains inexplicably soiling them. I meant to ask Dr. Hanji about my miraculously uninjured body, but she was long gone when I left the trailer. There was a sort of camp set up around the tent, made of a collection of smaller tents and trailers similar to the one I’d just left. I couldn’t tell for sure where we were, but it was around sunset and the ground was wet with dew that dripped through the mesh in my sneakers.

Everyone around me was in costume, chattering away about something or another, but when I passed, they all grew quiet and curious, furs, feathers and beads shifting as they looked my way. I noticed in particular how the crystal girl from the show stared, expressionless. I wanted to yell, to shout that I didn’t know why I was here either, that I just wanted to go home. I saved that for my meeting with the ringleader, though, and I focused on heading to the dwindling dinner line that curved around a cluster of picnic tables under a small pavilion. I immediately recognized the guy scooping my stew into a bowl as the security officer who’d taken Armin’s camera. If he remembered me, he didn’t show it. Just as he was handing me a buttered dinner roll, I was nearly bowled over by one of the performers. She burst into line behind me and some other hungry guy, holding an empty bowl before her with pleading puppy eyes. “Erwin, please,” she moaned as if she’d never eaten in her life. The tall blond- Erwin- smiled gently but shook his head.  
“I’m sorry, Sasha, but you know the rules,” he reminded her, still holding my bread in his hand. “No seconds until everyone’s gotten their firsts.” He sounded like a babysitter. Sasha gave a miserable pout and Erwin gave me an apologetic smile- apologetic for her, for my kidnapping, for everything, I wasn’t sure- and he handed my roll to me at last.

Predatory, Sasha’s eyes snapped to me. I felt the overwhelming urge to panic, seeing this strange something in her eyes that scared me a little. Her eyes fell to the bread in my hand and she pointed almost accusingly. “Are you going to eat that?”

I hesitated and slowly broke the roll in half, handing the smaller portion to her. Her eyes lit up and she devoured it instantly, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. I watched her face closely, wondering where I had seen her before. Her costume was the circus’ standard blue and white, bedazzled in sequins. A pair of sparkling wings peered out from behind her back, reminiscent of the circus logo. She caught me looking and swallowed her meal with a grin. “Thanks,” she said belatedly.

“No problem,” I murmured, and I watched her creep over to a crowded picnic table, begging for more scraps.

I made quick work of the stew and the remainder of my bread, not wanting to spend more time there than I had to and fearing more Sashas lurking in the shadows. When I was finished, I wandered around the camp, looking for a sign of the ringleader’s presence. I had no doubt that he would send for me, but I couldn’t wait. I needed answers. I was halfway across camp when I heard someone calling my name.

“Eren! Eren!” I turned to see Armin bounding toward me, and I caught him in my arms, grateful for his presence and instantly feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Armin, you’re alright!”

He laughed, letting go of me to grip my arms and look me in the eyes.

“Eren, I thought for sure you were dead! When the platform collapsed, you and Jean went down and I tried to run after you, but Erwin grabbed me and kept me back-”

“You met Erwin…?” The information flew past my ears faster than I could process. Armin nodded quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve been here awhile now… Oh, Eren, I was so glad when I heard you were okay- you were hurt badly, but Dr. Hanji used a special miracle shot that healed you almost instantly! I was so impressed; she even told me how all of the chemicals in it work! We must have been talking for hours until…” Now he stopped, and a frown took over his cheery features.

“What is it, Armin?” I asked slowly, and he shook his head.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…” he winced. “The ringleader is really pissed.” I stared in disbelief.

“He’s pissed, Armin!? I’m pissed! We’re eight hundred miles away from home with no explanation!”

“I know, Eren, I know,” he said with trepidation in his voice. “But when the- when Marco attacked, the whole crowd went running! News of it must be all over Trost by now…”

“Good! This place is totally fucking crazy!”

Armin hesitated and looked down. I knew he had more to say.

“Armin, what is it?”

“Eren, I…”

“Armin. What is it?” Armin bit his lip and refused to meet my eyes. He mumbled softly, and I almost lost his words on the wind. Unfortunately, I heard them loud and clear anyway.

“We might never go back, Eren. After you fell asleep, I was interrogated and… and the ringleader said that we can’t just leave after what we saw. That’s why they had to keep Marco, Eren… Last year, Marco left Jean’s side for a moment and saw something he shouldn’t have…. So they just… they just took him and made him a part of the circus.”

I didn’t have time to think before Erwin came and told me that the ringleader was ready to see me, and I let him take me away.

 

There was a deep green tent on the far side of the camp, spacious but isolated, just far enough away from the rest that it became insignificant. There was a radio nearby playing crackly music, wheezing past my ears as I waited for Erwin to confirm my arrival with the ringleader. They were in there for what seemed like hours as I stood outside, staring down the circus logo etched onto the billowing cloth. My heart beat faster the longer I waited and I began to wonder if I would ever see this guy, how I could convince him to let Jean, Marco, Armin and I go home.

Finally, Erwin came out of the tent and nodded to me, giving me the okay to go in. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, armed myself with my best angry eyes, and hunched beneath the flap Erwin was hoisting for me, stepping into the warm room within. I opened my mouth to start my rant when a vaguely familiar voice beat me to it.

“Eren Jaeger, I presume. Have a seat.” I blinked and looked around; behind me, up against the wall of the tent, there was a little desk, and on that desk was perched a surprisingly little man. I remembered the stilettoes and suddenly it made sense. 

His dark clothes gone, the ringleader didn’t look half as dark and creepy as he had before, but he was still just as intimidating. Hat, cape and suit gone, he was left in a loose-sleeved white shirt with some kind of scarf/tie thing tied around his neck. His eyes, half-lidded and intense, watched me lazily as I stood before him. A glass of red wine was in one of his hands as he reclined back, crossing his legs. Remembering his request I found an overturned crate and lowered myself to sit upon it, noticing that everything I could possibly use as a chair was shorter than the impromptu desk, and therefore shorter than the man on top of it.

“I’ll be short with you, shitty brat. I’m not happy with a whole fucking town knowing about the intricate mysteries of my circus, no matter whether or not it’s in the middle of scenic fucking nowhere.” He glared at me, brows drawing close together. “So you’d better make it up to me by getting your ass in gear and performing to your highest potential. Got it, you little shit?”

I sat in silence for a moment, indignant. I tried to think of something smart to say in response, but all I came up with was, “I’m not a little shit.”

“Nice fucking observation. I wish you were so I could flush you down the fucking toilet and get on with my life. You know what this means?” He hopped down from the desk, setting his wine down and leaning before me, hissing into my face. “It means that you’ve rid me of profit. You and your shitty friends have put me on the map, Jaeger, and I’m not fucking happy about it.”

“How is this our fault!?” I demanded, leaning up to yell back at him. “What about you? What did you do to Marco? What’s wrong with him!?”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you, kid,” he growled, obviously livid. “You’ll find out soon enough what this circus is all about.” His hand suddenly grabbed my jaw, tilting it upward as his boot came to rest next to my thigh. I was forced to look up into his face, into startling grey eyes that bore right into me. “You’re going to stay in this circus for as long as it takes. You’ll take all my orders and clean up every single fucking dirty track you’ve made. All of you will. Do you know why? Because I have something you want.”

I narrowed my eyes up at him and growled. “What are you talking about?”

His features remained dismal and unchanging, nearly expressionless. “Use your head, Jaeger. If you have someone you don’t want hurt, I think you can understand the complexity of this arrangement.”

I thought of Mikasa. “Do you have my sister!? Where is she? I swear to god, if you touch her…”

“Shut up and listen, brat.” Chastened, I did just what he said. “Tonight, you’re going to room in the barracks with the rest of the performers. You’re going to stay with the circus for exactly one year. At the end of that year, if you haven’t fucked things up entirely, you’ll be released back to your shitty little town, but explaining things is on you. You already fucked things up for your friend Mr. Bodt, so I’m doubting you’ll do any better for yourself.” He let go of me and moved back to his desk, taking his wine and sipping from it. I just sat, sputtering, angry, unable to force words past my lips. “I…”

“Levi,” came Erwin’s voice, muffled, from the other side of the tent. “Dr. Hanji is here to see you.”

“Send her in,” said the ringleader, and he lifted his chin, indicating that I should leave. I lunged at him, screaming, and he kicked me hard in the stomach. I fell back, sprawled out on the ground, and Erwin came in to intervene, lifting me up and restraining me, telling me to stop, asking Levi what the hell had just happened. I just kept yelling, all I could do, the world’s sound diluted in my ears as Erwin took me away.


End file.
